


Blood, Bruises, and Daddy Issues

by 221castiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Bad Parent John Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Dean Winchester Comes Out, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Siblings, Dean Winchester is John's Good Little Soldier, Dean Winchester is Loved, Gen, Homophobic John Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Physical Abuse, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Helps Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:54:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27096121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221castiel/pseuds/221castiel
Summary: It's been two years since Sam ran off to college, and despite his father's absence Dean still visited any chance he got. Usually for the night, to see a movie, or go out for dinner, but this time- this time it's different
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 195





	Blood, Bruises, and Daddy Issues

"Yah, I'll send you the notes," Sam said into the cell phone, as he stepped into his dorm room, closing the door behind him. With one hand still around the phone he reached his other out to the light switch, feeling around the wall for it. "Are we still on for Monday?"

"Yah." His friend, Morgan, replied through the phone. "I'll meet you at the pub?"

"Sounds good, is Jess coming cause-" The moment he flipped the light switch, his breath hitched, stomach dropping in horror? Shock? Sam wasn't sure. "Dean?"

Sam's mouth stayed a gap as he stared at his brother who was sat on Sam's bed. His gaze darted across Dean's face, and body, once, twice, over and over as if what he saw would disappear though it never did. No matter how many times Sam looked Dean's face stayed covered in dark purpose bruises, his t-shirt and jeans stained with dried blood.

Bruises.

Blood.

Sam couldn't find an inch of Dean that wasn't covered. Even his lips, which sat in a lopsided grin, were split open.

"Sam?" His name came from through the phone, jolting him from his trance. "You good?"

"Uh yah," Sam mumbled. "I'll talk to you later."

He didn't wait for a response instead hanging up, his eyes staying locked on Dean's as his arm fell back to his side. "Heya Sammy." Dean greeted, with a grin. The smile across his face easy, similar to his posture, as if he wasn't looking on the verge of death.

"Dean," Sam stepped forward, gaze once again darting down Dean's body. He could barely look through the twisting of his stomach, yet couldn't find his gaze moving anywhere else. Stuck on the bruise that covered Dean's cheek, the way his once grey AC/DC now clung to his chest with dried blood. "What the hell happened?"

"Me, Dad and Lee were on a hunt in Arizona."

"And you drove here? Dude that's like eighteen hours, why didn't dad or Lee patch you up."

A visible breath raised Dean's chests. "It wasn't the monster that had done the slicing and dicing."

Dad.

Sam could almost feel his heart stop as his gaze once again darted down his brother's body, though through his layers of clothing it was impossible to see exactly how much damage their father had caused. "In front of Lee?" was all Sam could muster.

"Can you just help me clean up?"

Sam quickly nodded turning to his bathroom. He collected a few cloths, alongside a small first aid kit and bucket of water before returning to his brother who'd stripped down to nothing but his underwear.

For a moment Sam couldn't move, his breath stuck in his throat as he looked down Dean's body. It was so much worse than Sam had ever expected, both of Dean's sides covered in large bruises, the same dark colour that matched his face. Dried blood stained his calves and thighs, dripping from the large gashes that covered his thighs. They couldn't of been from knives, maybe some kind of wip. A belt?

"You just gonna stare?" Dean's gruff voice broke the silence, forcing Sam to move despite his suddenly shaky legs.

He stumbled forward, dropping the stuff at the edge of the bed before he took a seat behind Dean, his stomach immediately dropping, begging him to look anywhere else. The gashes across his back were much worse, some long and precisely marked, though many became smaller, more forced, scattered without care.

Fuck Dean.

That was the only thing Sam could think.

Why do you let him do this.

Sam forced himself to get one of the clothes and bring it to his brothers back. A lump forming in his throat as he carefully washed away the dried blood, trying to avoid as many of the gashes as he could. It was a hard task, there were so many. Small ones barely bigger than his pinky finger, and large ones that traveled most of Dean's back, leaving hsi usually pale skin shredded.

Sam cleared his throat, voice seeming stuck. He wanted to talk, needed to, though it seemed harder than looking at Dean's back.

"Why," Sam began when he had finally found his voice. Still there was a shake to it, an uncertainty that he couldn't seem to avoid. "What happened this time."

When no reply came a shaken breath parted Sam's lips. "You didn't unload the dishwasher? Were walking too loud? Slammed the car door?"

Once again no reply.

Not even a small movement, some kind of indication that Dean had heard him.

Sam gave his brother another second to reply before he once again brought the cloth to Dean's back. He'd lived with Dean long enough to know that if his brother didn't want to talk he wouldn't, no matter how much Sam pushed. He'd brush things off with a sarcastic comment, a lopsided grin, or quick wink, play whatever he was feeling down to nothing.

Normally, when it came to their father's abuse, Sam would continue to push, demand Dean talk to him, though this time felt different. More personal.

He continued to clean Dean's back working from the bottom up. Cleaning away as much blood as he could, though there was so much, and times it became impossible to know what of Dean's skin was bruised or bloody.

As he brought the cloth along Dean's upper back, he felt the other's breath hitch, his hand immediately freezing. "Me, and Lee-" Dean whispered, his voice not wavering for a second. Completely neutral. "We got careless."

"You guys usually do."

Another deep breath raised Dean's shoulders, his voice coming out broken. "He found us-"

Sam opened his mouth to speak though when his eyes fell on Deans suddenly shaking shoulders, whatever he was about to say had been forgotten. "Dean?" He couldn't stop the shaking in his voice as he moved from behind his brother, to standing in front, meeting Dean's bruised, and bloody face, that now had tears rolling down.

"Dean." That was the only thing Sam could seem to get passed his lips, as he watched his brother break into sobs. Tears falling down his cheeks. Body shaking with each gasped breath. There was no attempt to hide it or atleast that Sam could see, and instead Dean broke, continuing to sob even as Sam stepped closer, unsure what to do.

When was the last time he'd seen his brother cry. Fourteen maybe. In total he could count the times on his fingers, six being about their mother, and one because Sam had gotten hit bad in a hunt, and ended up in the hospital.

Each time had been tears, silent and slow.

Nothing like this. Broken. Shattered. Each gasped sob piercing Sam's heart.

"Hey," Sam finally began trying to keep his own voice steady despite his hammering heart, speaking the same Dean would to him any time he cried. "You're okay."

Another choked breath came from Dean, as he only shook his head, tears continuing to roll down his face. "He- he found us-" another heart shattering gasp. "Sam."

Without a second hesitation Sam took a step forward, wrapping his arms around Dean. His own heart hammering as he felt Dean's body shake in his arms, his brothers sob becoming slightly muffled as Dean buried his face into Sam's shoulder.

"He found us," Dean sobbed again, voice nothing short of broken. "He found us- Sammy."

That was the last thing spoken for what felt like hours, Sam's heart breaking further with each sob that passed Dean's lips, his own breaths struggling to stay steady. He didn't move. He didn't speak. Only listening to Dean cry, feeling the shaking of his body until Dean slowly raised his head, tears now staining his bruised and bloody face.

Sam let his arms fall back to his side, gaze staying on Dean's face no matter how much it hurt, though Dean's own gaze stayed locked on the floor. "Dad," Sam whispered, voice seeming to hang in the now silent room. "He did all this cause what he found you guys with some dope?

"He didn't find us smoking, he found us-" Dean's eyes squeezed shut, a shaken breath parting his lips. "He found us in bed together."

Sam opened his mouth though no words came, eyes frozen on his brother waiting for the 'I'm joking', the cocky grin that would spread across his lips, anything, though none of it came. Sam's own mind buzzing with no thought clear other than Dean, and Lee. Together.

Dean who had hooked up with more girls than towns they lived in. Who spat slurs like it was nothing. Who was as far as Sam had ever thought was nothing short of straight.

Apparently not.

Sam's mouth closed, only to open again, continuing to stare at his brother. "You and Lee-" He finally mustered, "For how long?"

"Three years."

Sam gave the smallest nod of his head, not that Dean would see as the other kept his gaze firmly on the ground. "So what? Dad found you two together and-" The next word stayed stuck, refusing to come, not that Sam even wanted it to.

Beat you.

Whipped you.

Almost killed you.

"After the case dad wanted to do some gambeling, so we got a hotel in LA." Sam took a breath, the air barely coming, his lungs burning. "He came back sooner than we'd expected and found us." Dean closed his eyes. "He tossed Lee out, before..."

"Dean-"

Dean's eyes opened, meeting Sam's. His usual pale skin was now rimmed in red, eyes hazy from unfallen tears, though a smirk tugged at his lips. "Luckily I hadn't gotten to the taking off the underwear part, or you know." Dean's gaze dropped to his crotch, before looking back to Sam with a raised eyebrow. "might have lost something a bit more important."

For a moment Sam let the smallest smile tug at his lips, before he slowly sat next to his brother. He kept his gaze on his bed sheets, studying the blue fabric. For a breath. Then another. His gaze finally looked back to Dean, his stomach twisting as he was met with Dean's bruised face. He'd seen a bit of John's abuse, as much as Dean would let him, though none of it, over the six years Sam had known about it, was as bad as this. Not even close.

Though most of the bruises were large, up close Sam could see smaller ones. Hickeys that scattered across his collar bones, and lower neck. "Why are you still living with him?" Sam finally mustered. "You're old enough to leave. You don't even have to quit hunting, Lee's a hunter, he knows the life."

"We aren't dating," Dean replied, tone suddenly harsher than before, underlined with something that Sam couldn't quite explain. "It was just a few dumb hookups."

"Well you could start." Dean didn't reply, Sam's gaze staying locked on his brother as Dean's dropped. "Does Lee know about dad?"

Sam doubted it.

"I'm staying with dad."

"Dean-"

"I'm not just leavin' him after one bad night."

"One bad night?" Sam cried, no longer able to, or caring to keep his voice steady. "Dean look at yourself, this isn't a bad night!"

Dean only shook his head pushing himself from the bed. There was a stumble to his stance, Sam's arms tensign to reach out though he quickly recovered his balance. "Can we not talk about him right now?" It wasn't a question, and Sam knew that. "I need a shower."

"We can talk in the morning," Sam suggested. "You could stay the night."

The smallest smile tugged at Dean's lips, though that brought no ease to Sam's still twisting stomach. "Whatever you want doctor phil."

Sam didn't reply, instead watching with concern as his brother turned away, walking across Sam's small dorm room and to the conjoined bathroom. "Sam," Sam hummened in response, gaze meeting Dean's as his brother turned to face him. "Who's Jess?" 

Without hesitation Sam grabbed the pillow from the end of his bed. He threw it towards Dean as harshly as he could, though Dean stepped into the bathroom, dodging it with a laugh.

"Go fuck yourself!"

Maybe if Sam hadn't been so controlled by his worry for his brother he would have forced Dean to talk once he'd finished his shower.

Maybe if Sam hadn't needed time to figure out exactly what he wanted to say he would have forced Dean to talk after he finished stitching a particularly bad cut.

Maybe if he hadn't been so tired he would have realized that he should have talked to dean that night, because when morning came, Dean, and any sign that he had once beem there, was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> oh how I hate John Winchester!  
> Anyways! I hope y'all enjoyed, and have had a lovely weekend   
> -Paige 
> 
> Tumblr - 221Castiel


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